“I⁠ ⁠… I⁠ ⁠… I do not think that you are very wise, Mr. Carr. Nor⁠ ⁠… that you⁠ ⁠… understand women⁠ ⁠… very well. She might not call it by that name.”

“It would make no difference what she called it, madam. She would ruin her life, and that must never be.”

A white rose joined its fallen brethren, pulled to pieces by fingers that trembled pitifully.

“ Mr. Carr, if the lady⁠ ⁠… loved you⁠ ⁠… is it quite fair to her⁠—to say nothing?”

There was a long silence, and then my lord lied bravely.

“I hope that she will⁠—in time⁠—forget me,” he said.